Through a Killer's Eyes
by NeonSparkles
Summary: This is the Hunger Games through Clove's POV. It's got her thoughts on the Capitol, Cato, and the Hunger Games in general! It is rated T because its the Hunger Games, whaddya think? Violence! Yup... Hope you enjoy it!


Prologue

We sit by our creek, Grey and I. The soft breeze whispers through the few pine trees and the Mockingjays sing. I rest my head on Grey's shoulder and he holds my hand in his. The crystal-clear creek gurgles soothingly as we sit in silence. The only thing that continues to remind us of the Capitol is the humming of the electric fence, a couple yards away.

Grey plucks a soft pink wildflower and tucks it behind my ear. It pops out against my jet-black hair. He smiles and I smile back.

"I wish you didn't have to have a Fight today. What if you get hurt?" I ask, tilting my head to look at him.

"I'll be fine, " he tells me quietly. "I've been training well, and I can handle it."

The calmness in his voice comforts me, but I see fear in is soft blue eyes.

"You're fighting Cato," I whisper.

"I know, Clove, I know," he says with a sigh.

He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb and I lay back into the tall grasses. I close my eyes and breath the fresh scent of the forest deeply. Grey is the only one I can talk to here, the only one who understands me. Grey hates this as much as I do and we are each other's escapes. I hear him lay back next to me and he takes a deep breath. I smile and scoot closer, using his outstretched arm as a pillow.

While we relax, I hear the town square bell chime 12. Grey and I both stand.

"I guess we should start heading back," he says. "Can't be late."

We start walking towards the main part of the District, District 2. We pass Grey's residence on the outskirts of town where he lives with his parents and three younger siblings. I love his family. Though they have a small house and little food, they care about each other. We pass the Station Buildings, the stores and shops, the bigger houses, and then enter the town square.

I kiss Grey gently.

"Be careful," I whisper.

"I will, Clove. I promise," he whispers back.

He heads into the back of the Training Building while I head into the front. I usually don't attend Fights if I'm not actually the one participating, but there is no way I will miss this one. Cato is the best in the District by far, and Grey is no match for him. Grey is very talented, but he hates hurting people, and that is his disadvantage. That is where we come in common. Cato is different. He is a killing machine.

Everyone knows that there is supposed to be no killing at Fights, but the rules are being broken constantly.

The Fight Center in the Training Building is filling quickly, which it usually does on Fridays in early afternoons, when Fights are held. In just a couple minutes the room will be full and the Fight will begin.

Cato and Grey enter the Ring and the spectators applaud. There are no weapons today, so I suspect it is hand to hand combat.

The gong makes a loud bellowing sound that signals the start of the Fight. Cato grabs Grey's shoulders and flips him to the ground immedeatly. He punches him in the stomach and I hold my breath. Grey gasps for breath and flips Cato off of him, even though Cato almost doubles Grey's weight with pure muscle. Grey stands and kicks Cato in the thigh as hard as he can. I can tell Grey hates this by the pained expression in his eyes. He turns and is about to deliver a blow that will end the Fight, but not Cato's life, when Cato leaps up and catches Grey off guard. He grabs Grey's neck with both hands and flicks his wrists.

My heart stops. Grey falls to the ground, his blue eyes glazed over. I stare at his lifeless body, horrified.

Chapter 1

The gong sounds, loud and deep, mixing with the noises of cheering and applause.

"Clove, Clove, Clove!" the spectators chant.

I know I have won another Fight. Each week the Academy hosts a Fight to show our skills. Friday, at midday, we hold them. I have been in the last seven in a row and and I have been in eleven total. I know that I am a favorite among the district. The instructors choose ten contestants each week and our district, District 2, votes on who they want to view.

I grit my teeth and grin smugly, my eyes shooting daggers. I must look as menacing as I can. I quick glance to my left and see the instructors guiding the boy I just beat slowly away. I feel awful and know that since I practically shredded his arm, he will be miserable for the next couple weeks, but this can't matter to me. I truly hate hurting other people. I hate the look of panic in their eyes, the panic that slowly turns into pleading, but I know what is expected of me. I know that the only way I can be here is to act like I don't care, act like killing and pain are my life.

I swiftly turn away from the boy, who is almost two years older than me, and hope that nobody caught my glance of regret. I stand on the platform a few moments longer, and while I watch the crowd, I notice my mother watching me with a look of disapproval. I am never good enough for her. I can picture her questioning me on why I only destroyed his arm, why he wasn't seriously injured, why he isn't dead. She knows as well as I do that Fights are not meant for killing, but it still happens. The best can kill. I also catch Cato staring at me. Cato who killed Grey. I push the thought away as quickly as it came. I cannot think of him now, I tell myself. He is gone. Grey is not coming back.

I silently sigh to myself, turn away from the crowd and head to my station building, Station 9.

The first half of my day, the day of a District 2 sixteen-year-old, is training and classes. We learn to fight with spears, knives, daggers, machetes, and all other weapons. Training and classes start at age six and end at seventeen. Thankfully, this is my last year. In the afternoon, we work in the stations. Since District 2 is present to provide weapons for the Capitol, that is practically all we do here. We learn to create all sorts of weaponry in our training and classes. We start working in the stations at age 12, and that is what we do for the rest of our life. Once we are done with training and classes, we spend all day in the stations.

I noiselessly tread to Station 9, hurrying when I walk past Station 7. Station 7 was Grey's station. Grey . . . I miss him so much, but I know that thinking will not help anything.

Once I reach my station, I slip the stained black workers' smock over my training uniform and pull back my long, wavy hair. I head to my block and start to hammer at some daggers I have been working on for a while now. I work harder, knowing that if I don't reach my quota, the Peacekeepers will see to me.

The work day is almost over. The sun is setting with a blazing orange color, as I can see through the skylights. The skylights are the only decent-looking things in the station and the sun is the only thing we can tell time by. Everything in Station 9, like anything in the district, is made of stone, and covered in black burn stains. We all have our own blocks for working. Our blocks are like our own personal stations.

I pull of my smock, wipe down my block, and head towards the door. Cato stops me. I sigh, of course, out of all ten stations, Cato just happens to be in mine.

"Yes, Cato?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies with a devilish smile.

I roll my eyes. "Well then, I should get going." My smile oozes mock politeness. His arm reaches out and blocks my way. I glare at him. "Cato, cut it out. I have to get going."

"Why so fast?" he challenges looking me up and down. Slowly.

I blush. Now he is really getting on my nerves. I pretend to dash around his left side and when he shifts, I sneak behind his right.

"Honestly, Cato, I can't believe you fell for that one, again," I taunted.

"Clove, clove," he sighs dramatically. His face changes in an instant: innocently friendly to mischievously wicked. "You can't get away that easily."

I quickly turn around and continue to the door, shivers sweeping down my spine. When I glance back, Cato is staring at me and smiling his horrible smile. He is clearly enjoying my uneasiness. I turn back around and walk at a more rapid pace than before. When I finally reach the exit, I can still feel his gaze burning into me. I plow through the doors and make my way to my family's residence.

I pass the bakery, butcher shop, a few stores, and stations one through eight. Since our family holds an important position in our district, we live on the outskirts of the town square. My father is the head peacekeeper and my mother is also a high ranked peacekeeper.

Once I reach our doorstep, I take a moment to steady myself. I know my mother will be furious. I take a deep breath and place a blank expression on my face, showing no emotion. I slowly open the door and step inside.

"Mom! Clove's back!" my sister Ivy shouts.

I look at her with a questioning, but silent, glare. She shrugs, smirks, and arrogantly strolls away. Ivy is two years older than me and, according to herself, better than everyone in her presence. I am the youngest of four kids. Thistle is the oldest at twenty-two. Ivy is second at eighteen. Basil is second youngest, seventeen, and I am sixteen.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk into the parlor.

"Clove Hale! What did you think you were trying to pull today?" my mother yells at me, boiling with anger and disappointment, right once I step through the door. "I had this talk with you last week, Clove," she says lowering her voice. "All of your siblings are fine but you! You disgust me, Clove! You can't even kill!"

I look at my feet, not trusting my face to hide the shame and hurt I am feeling. I can practically feel her anger drifting off in waves. I glance up and she hits me across the face.

"You look at me when I talk to you, Clove! How do you even call yourself my daughter?" she screams, her anger turning to rage.

My face stings painfully and I can almost feel my freckled skin turning red. Tears are swelling up on the right side of my face but still, I look up. My mother glares at me and curses.

"Clove, tomorrow is Reaping Day, understand?" she says.

"Yes, ma'am," I reply quietly.

"And tonight is the Volunteer Ceremony," she continues, pointing out what I already knew. "Well here's a little surprise I found out after your Fight today," she tells me, grinning sinisterly. "You've won the most Fights and your instructors say you're the best female in the district. I think we both know what that means, now don't we?"

"Yes, ma'am," I say again, praying that she doesn't hear the fear in my voice.

"Well, then, Clove tonight is when the mayor announces what Careers will volunteer in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. So go get some decent things on don't you dare embarrass me, Clove. Don't you dare embarrass me."

My mother turns her back to me and walks into the kitchen. I immediately run upstairs to my bedroom, hoping that Ivy isn't in it. We share a bedroom, but right now I really need some privacy.

Once I reach the second door on the right, I open it and step inside. Mine and Ivy's bedroom is empty and I let out a sigh of relief. She is probably down with my mom in the kitchen, but at least she isn't here. I slump down on my bed and a single tear rolls down my cheek. I have been chosen to compete in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Most of the other districts, except for District 1, 4, and 2, us, have a regular Reaping. A regular Reaping where the children's names are drawn at random, one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen. If the families are poor, the children can put their name in more than one time and receive tesserae, a supply of grain and oil for the family, giving them a greater chance of being picked.

Here in District 2, things are different. There is rarely ever tesserae because we are fed well, unlike other districts that are on the brink of starvation. Also, in District 2 the Reaping is a little different. Competing in the Hunger Games is an honor. A boy and girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen are chosen, but then two different children take their place. The kids that volunteer are in it to win and are called Careers. In our classes we train to become Careers. To decide who gets to volunteer, we hold Fights. The winner of the most gets to volunteer and be the District 2 Tribute. This year it is me.

I should've done worse in the Fights and just been beaten by my mother, but instead, I was stupid. I never thought of the consequences winning would bring me and there is no turning back now.

I take into account what my mother told me about wearing something nice, because I will be standing in front of the whole district. Not that it matters what they think of me anymore. I slip off my training and classes uniform and slip on some dark grey pants, and a lighter grey blouse. I tie my hair back, because it is the easiest thing to get my hair to do. When I look in the mirror I notice that the right side of my face is puffy and pink. I rub on some make-up even though it makes my face sting even more. I put on some black sandals and slowly head back downstairs.

My mother glances at me when I step into the kitchen but quickly directs her attention to the stew she is spooning out into bowls. Ivy glares at me from her seat, and Thistle makes a point to shove me as he walks past. I silently sit next to Basil, and he looks hard at my cheek. We make eye contact and he scratches his cheek. I look over at Mom and he moves his head in a small nod that only I can see. Basil and I have a close relationship and talk to each other in small movements that nobody ever sees, let alone figure out. I look back at him and see pity in his eyes. I was going to ask him if he knew that I was this year's Career, but my mother interrupted me by setting the bowls of stew on the table with some wheat rolls.

"Where's Pa?" asks Thistle.

"He is working late, dear," she replies in her sweetest voice.

We all know that Thistle is our mother's favorite child. He had killed three other kids during Fights he was in, when he was younger. Now he was a Peacekeeper, like her and my father.

"Why?" Thistle asks with a grin growing on his face.

We all know that when Father works late, it is because somebody had broken the rules and was in the process of being punished. Thistle, like the rest of my family, somehow enjoys other's punishment.

"He is at a hanging. The Peacekeepers caught a boy stealing from the market today," she replies.

I hear Ivy giggle and become even more confused on how she can be entertained by this.

By the end of dinner, the Volunteer Ceremony had been mentioned more than a few times. I don't think my mother has told any of my siblings that I have been given the 'honor' to compete as the District 2 Tribute Girl. She knows who will be the volunteer tributes every year, but this year she just keeps telling us that it is a surprise. This makes Ivy and Basil really excited, in hope that it might be them. Throughout the meal, though, she's shooting me knowing looks.

I don't eat anything because I am too nervous. I just stir my stew repeatedly.

"Hurry Up!" my mother yells.

I continue walking slowly, staring at the dust beneath my feet. Thistle, Ivy, Basil, and my parents, are walking quickly, and I am lagging behind. Why me? I think again, though I know exactly why I have been chosen. The enormous bell in the town square chimes 10, so I hurry up. I trudge over to the 16 year-old girl section and bend under the rope. The whole District is required to be here, at the Volunteer Ceremony. It is set up like the Reaping, just no cameras. The Capitol does not need footage of our Volunteer Ceremony because it is supposedly illegal. They know about it of course, but the other districts don't. The Capitol allows us to continue because we, the trained tributes, Careers, make the games more interesting. Everything depends on the Capitol's entertainment. Our lives are controlled by the Capitol and we die for their pleasure. They disgust me.

A few minutes after arriving to the town square, Lupus steps out of the granite double-doors of the Justice Building and onto the platform before us. Lupus is our mayor. In our Reaping, and all of the other Districts' Reapings, it would be the Districts' Capitol Chaperone, but, again, the Capitol pretends not to know about our Volunteer Ceremony, so Florus isn't here.

"It is such a pleasure to be standing before all of you right now. We have gathered here today to announce the two children who have the honor of representing District 2 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games," his booming voice pauses, and the audience claps. I do not. "Well then, let's start with the girls."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"The District 2 female tribute will be the girl between 12 and 18 who has won the most Fights, shown amazing combat skills, and is a favorite of our District. This year's Volunteer is Clove Hale!" Lupus announces with a grin.

I feel like I am dying inside and it is painful to make myself walk up the few steps onto the platform. I feel all eyes trained on me, and am surprised I haven't passed out yet. Lupus grabs my wrist and raises my arm, just as our Chaperone, Florus, would do.

I try to look like I am glad to have been presented this honor, and not that I feel about to throw up, so I decide to glare and smirk.

Lupus starts to speak again, once the applause dies down. "And now for the boys! I know that our tribute this year is definitely one of the District's favorites, and has won the most Fights by an outrageous number. The Volunteer for the 74th Annual Hunger Games is Cato Vitus!"

The whole of District 2 breaks out into an enormous amount of cheering and applause. They must be excited to watch him in the Arena. I am not.

Immediately after Cato's name is called, he stares right at me and grins his evil grin. My stomach flips and it isn't in a pleasant way. My breathing quickens and thoughts race through my head. I can't believe I am able to manage my being-so-glad-to-slaughter-innocent-kids-in-the-Hunger-Games act, but I do.

Lupus raises Cato's arm as he raised mine, then joins our hand together. We both keep our arms lifted as Lupus says, "Cato and Clove, our District 2 Volunteers!"

His hand grips mine violently, and I think there will be a mark left on my hand. His palms are warm and sticky and holding his hand is the opposite of pleasant, but I can't pull away crowd claps some more and then clears out rather quickly, so Cato and I drop our hands and I jerk mine away instantly.

"Well then, I guess I'll leave you two to head home. Get a good night's rest for the Reaping tomorrow. You guys will have a busy day!" Lupus says cheerfully. He walks back into the Justice Building and shuts the doors loudly.

I turn and head down the steps before Cato can stop me. I run down the gravel road at full speed. Past the stores and big houses, past the Station Buildings, past the lesser houses at the edge of town, and into the woods. There are barely any trees before a giant electric fence crosses through, but I am fine with what I have. I sit by mine and Grey's moonlit creek, in a patch of soft pink wildflowers, and cry.


End file.
